Crossing Over: The Strongest Mage

The result left her very disappointed. Yanhuo hadn't done anything; he was simply sitting under a tree in a daze, staring blankly for hours, day after day. The sun was high in the sky, and the fog surrounding the manor had completely dispersed. Xiuning gently pushed open the door and walked in. Inside, a young boy in a white linen robe was sitting at a table, fiddling with a wooden zither. The piece he was playing was called "The Magpie's Nest," originally a lively tune, but in his hands, it carried a sense of sorrow.

When the melody reached a part that described the peak of development, the music suddenly stopped, as the boy sensed someone had entered.

"Xiuning Jie, is something the matter?"

"Young Master, it's time to eat," Xiuning replied.

"I'm not hungry."

"But Young Master, you didn't eat this morning."

"… I just want to play this piece a few more times. You all can go ahead and eat," the boy said, then resumed playing.

"Yan'er's zither skills really improve every time. Even I, his teacher, can't help but admire him. And he's still only eleven years old.

Sigh, it's such a pity that the piece carries such a sorrowful tone," Xiuning thought as she listened. The boy had played the piece several times without stopping, and Xiuning had stood by his side, listening intently, unwilling to leave.

"Come on, let's eat," she said. On the fifth repetition, Yanhuo finally stopped, knowing that if he didn't eat, Xiuning wouldn't leave.

Without even acknowledging Xiuning, he got up and walked toward the dining hall. Xiuning hurried to catch up with him and said, "Young Master, the food might be cold already. Let me heat it up for you first."

"No need. Eating won't kill me," Yanhuo replied, not even turning his head.

After lunch, Yanhuo, as usual, was heading to the small grove. Before he left, Xiuning stopped him, saying, "Young Master, it's Qingming again. The master might come up the mountain in the next few days. You'd better stay away from the woods for now."

"What does going to the woods have to do with him coming up the mountain?" Yanhuo asked.

"If the master finds out you're not in the manor…" Xiuning began to explain.

"Haha! As long as you don't tell him, how would he know I'm not in the manor? If he asks about me, just say I'm in my room. He won't bother to see me anyway. Isn't that right?" Yanhuo laughed and continued walking out of the manor.

Xiuning didn't know what else to say. She simply reminded him, "Young Master, remember to come back before dinner." Yanhuo didn't respond.

"I'm not as happy as the little birds in the woods!" Yanhuo thought to himself. "At least they can live freely. I'm just a burden to my parents. How was I even born? What happened when I was born that made Father hate me so much? The more I don't know, the more I want to find out."

Sitting under a tree, Yanhuo looked out toward the mountains.

"Sigh! I'm just an eleven-year-old kid, and all I can do is paint and play the zither. I can't even leave the mountain. They won't tell me why, so how am I supposed to know? Do I really have to live here for the rest of my life? If I could fly like those little birds, that would be wonderful. Then I could go down the mountain and find the answers I need."

Just as Yanhuo was lost in his thoughts, a young boy dressed as a Daoist priest hobbled along a small path from the other side of the mountain, grumbling as he walked.

"This damn back mountain! There's clearly never anyone around here, or why would there be so many thorns on the trail? Ouch, my poor little leg!" The boy, who appeared to be about fourteen or fifteen, was dressed in Daoist robes. He wielded a machete, chopping at the weeds and dead branches along the side of the path as if seeking revenge for the injury on his leg.

When he reached the forest, the boy found a large tree to sit under and checked his wound. The injury wasn't serious—just a little redness—but perhaps because of his anger, it seemed to hurt a lot. So much so that he forgot to be mindful of his surroundings. He didn't even notice that there was a person sitting under a nearby tree.

"Hey!? Who is he?" Yanhuo did notice the young Daoist. From the moment the Daoist entered the forest, Yanhuo couldn't take his eyes off him. Yanhuo had grown up in the manor, and aside from Xiuning, the old couple, and his father, it was the first time he had seen an outsider, let alone someone of his own age.

Yanhuo was very curious. "Could he be a Daoist from the temple in front of the mountain?" Yanhuo knew there was a temple near the foot of the mountain, but he had never seen a Daoist before, so he couldn't be sure. He stood up and was about to approach to get a closer look, but accidentally stepped on a dry twig, making a noise.

"Who's there!?" The young Daoist shouted loudly when he heard the sound. He was surprised to find a boy standing in front of him.

Zhang Feng, the Daoist, thought to himself, "How could a boy suddenly appear in these wild mountains?"

"You are... a deity? A monster?" The Daoist asked.

"Hello! I'm Yanhuo," the boy replied.

"Who asked you what your name is? I asked what you are?" The young Daoist stood up cautiously at Yanhuo's appearance.

"What am I? Yanhuo isn't anything!" Yanhuo was a bit confused.

"… What nonsense is this?" The Daoist gripped his machete tightly. "I asked whether you're a human, a monster, or something else!"

"I'm a human," Yanhuo answered firmly.

The Daoist examined him and then asked, "Are you sure you're not some kind of monster?"

"Monster? What's that?" Yanhuo was completely puzzled by the term the Daoist used.

"Yanhuo is a human, and he lives in the manor up the mountain."

"You… turn around and let me see." Although Yanhuo didn't understand, he did as he was told. The Daoist looked at Yanhuo's back and thought to himself, "No tail behind him, he should be human. That gave me a scare." The Daoist's logic was rather simple—he believed only those with tails were monsters.

"Are you done looking?" Yanhuo asked.

"Yeah, you can turn back now!" The Daoist sighed in relief. "Now it's my turn to ask. Are you from the temple?"

"Yes!" The Daoist sat back down.

"Looks like I guessed right," Yanhuo said.

"What do you mean 'guessed right'? Have you never seen a Daoist before?"

"No, I've only heard Xiuning Jie talk about them."